Obsidian and Plum: Unlikely Events

Welcome to my first 'Obsidian and Plum' story: Unlikely Events.

Before you start reading this story (and yes, the first chapter will start here in a short moment) I'd just like to point out a few quick things.

Firstly - I do not own anything regarding the pokémon franchise, this is a Comashipping fan-fiction and was written for fun and entertainment only.

'Obsidian and Plum' is the name given to this series, and 'Unlikely events' is the name given to the first story of this series. x

Warnings:

· This is a boyXboy fanfiction.

· This story has sexual, gay content.

· There is severe injury in this story - an open brake/fracture, few mentions of blood, and head injury etc. (No one dies btw)

· Concussion, seizures, sickness and vomiting is also included in this work.

· Contains bad language.

· May induce humor in some parts.

I would also like to add that most of my knowledge on Pokémon is based on the anime, and that, if anything is wrong to cannon, I am sorry now. I have loosely based Ash's age on some aging theories, and I have decided to start my story in 2010. The year isn't that important, is just there for time passing references etc.

I started this story (originally) around the same time that the anime Sun and Moon aired in the USA. This story will not include the cannon events of Sun and Moon, and will generally spin off from cannon during the first few episodes of the series.

Now that I have given you all the necessary information, please enjoy the story and kindly leave kudos/likes and comments. XD

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Obsidian and Plum: Unlikely Events
Chapter one - Bad Choices

Not all ideas end up being sensible ones, and sometimes, no amount of positive thinking and drive to succeed will assure you achieve your goal. Nineteen-year-old Ash Ketchum, was being reminded of that fact once again as he foolishly tries to fight his way through a monster of a storm.

Hurricane winds, and torrential rain was beating the islands of Jhoto and Kanto, slowly traveling east in the direction of Sinnoh. Ash and his electric pokémon friend - Pikachu, were currently trying to walk home to Pallet town during one of the worst storms the regions have seen in years. Soaking wet, cold, shivering and tired, Ash had Pikachu zipped inside his dark-blue and white jacket. He was walking hunched forward against the battling winds, his head down, eyes only shielded from the aggressive, relentless weather by his dark-blue and white baseball cap.

Moving towards the closest tree to rest – if just for a moment to regain his breath and any fraction of energy he could find, his foot caught on a raised root and he tripped. Trying to protect his Pikachu, he turned on the way down, landing awkwardly on his left side and skidding across the ground hard. The pain racked through his shoulder and arm, causing Ash to scrunch his eyes closed and clench his teeth.

"Pikaaaaa?" The small electric pokémon cried to his trainer in concern, poking his head out from the hooded jacket as Ash forced himself to sit up. Pikachu was just as soaked as he was, and that was saying something; his dark jeans were heavy and weighed down from being saturated, his socks squelched in his sneakers, and his jacket was soaked dark. At least Pikachu was safer inside his jacket – away from the winds that were far too difficult for his pokémon to move in. Pikachu had already been blown off Ash's shoulders once, even when he'd had his tiny back yellow-legs tucked into Ash's unused hood.

"I'm okay buddy! I'm sorry I got us into this shit. Wasn't my best idea." Ash admitted, breathless and tired. He was shivering as he adjusted his rucksack. He felt extremely foolish. This wasn't the first time he'd acted impulsively – going against sage advice… stupid!

"Pi, Pikachuuu." Pikachu tried to reassure him, nuzzling his head under Ash's chin.

The storm wasn't letting up, on the contrary… it was getting worse. Knowing he had to find shelter or keep moving, he stood up and bit his lip against the pain that groaned in his shoulder. He supported his left arm with his right hand under the elbow, both arms still around his Pikachu, and forced onwards through the storm.

"Come on bud, we have to keep moving!" Ash encouraged himself more than his electric type.

After a while, Ash was losing feeling in his limbs. He didn't know if it was the cold or the fact that he was walking on pure survival power, but the aching muscles just felt absent from his body, yet … he was still walking somehow. His energy and strength were almost depleted to nothing, so he guessed it must be survival or adrenaline keeping him moving - if not for himself, he had to make sure Pikachu was safe. Of course, Pikachu had refused point-blank to return to his pokéball even though he'd tried.

Man, had he tried!

He was shivering furiously, his ears and noes stung, and he couldn't feel his fingers or toes. His face felt like it had been slapped multiple times, and the only good thing about the cold was that his shoulder now felt numb.

There was no shelter that he could see, but then it was nearly impossible to see anything past the end of his cap –– how that cap was still on his head he would never know, he assumed it must have been because it was soaked and stuck to his hair somehow. Even then the winds and rain were making it very difficult to keep his eyes open – stinging drops and winds irritating his tired eyes. He was exhausted.

He forced his burning calves to work against the wind, but his strength was dwindling – the winds trying to force him backwards. He was just contemplating giving up, laying down on the ground and sleeping – even in this weather, when he heard an almighty crack from directly above.

Looking up, he startled when he saw part of the massive tree plummet down to where he stood. He tried to dive out of the way but he wasn't fast enough – it was too late.

A thick branch collided with the back of his head and trapped him to the ground on his front; his vision saw white and wavered; a ringing noise cursed through his ears; a crippling pain tore through his right leg, crushed by the collision and weight of the bigger branch he was under. Pain, it was all that registered through the ringing and he didn't even hear the cries of his Pikachu calling out to him - nor feel him wriggling out from under his body and weave between the smaller branches laying over Ash's back. Everything was stuck in a soundless time freeze, blinking between spinning colours and total darkness … until the darkness took over his consciousness completely.

In a small cave, sat in front of a small fire, a twenty-year-old plum-haired man named Paul, sighed and looked up at the cave roof. He was sitting with his knees to his chest, his arms wrapped around them thinking. The cave entrance was sealed by a huge boulder for the most part, and logs had been stacked to lessen the elements … still, strong draughts blew in occasionally – threatening to kill the fire, but at least they also drew out the smoke.

Deciding to collect more wood for kindle, he took off his black and dark-purple jacket, and his black t-shirt, leaving his chest exposed. He made his way to the boulder with a pokéball in his hand. Moving the logs carefully aside, he felt the full force of the wind gusts and rain hitting him hard, soaking his black straight-legged jeans.

"Fuck you Reggie!" He growled to himself through gritted teeth, pushing forward to the nearest set of trees – not too far away, and called out his pokémon.

"Torterra! Brace yourself!" He shouted, as his ground-grass type emerged.

"Terra!" Torterra exclaimed in shock at the weather conditions, facing Paul with concern for his trainer. The massive pokémon stood firm against the winds, but he still felt its effects against his back and face.

"Razor leaf them branches, let's go!" Shivered Paul, rubbing his arms and hands to keep warm. The winds blew the razor leaf attack off target and it missed. Growling in frustrating, he shouted at his Torterra. "Focus! Or I'll leave you out here."

Paul was losing his patience rapidly; he wanted to get back to the cave pronto. He wished he'd worn his top, but the truth was, he wasn't one to be bothered by the cold usually and he didn't want all his clothes soaked.

Finally, the Razor leaf worked, and Torterra helped him take the branches back. It wasn't much, but it would have to do for now. The weather was worse than he'd expected it to be right then, and getting back to the cave would be preferable to freezing to death out here.

On the way back, he saw a powerful thunderbolt reach up into the sky. He was shocked at first, but then decided he didn't care; he was far too cold and pissed off to give a shit. A few steps later and it happened again – another thunderbolt.

By the time he'd reached the cave he'd seen six thunderbolts cry up into the rapidly darkening sky. He was curious, yes, but the anticipation of shelter and warmth was far more appealing. With a shake of his head, he returned Torterra to his pokéball, moved all the new branches inside, and then re-stacked the logs to keep out the winds.

After drying off with a hand towel from his bag, he changed his jeans and put on his t-shirt and jacket. He made to re-lighting the fire but froze –– his nagging curiosity got the better off him. He moved one of the logs aside to peer out into the storm, waiting, watching … nothing. He sighed, what a waste of time! He was about to turn away when a weaker thunderbolt ripped up desperately into the dark-grey sky.

He thought about it for just a moment, before striding over to his bag and retrieving a pokéball from his pokémon belt that he'd removed earlier. "Froslass, assist!" He released his ice-ghost pokémon. "Go see what that thunderbolt is all about!" Ordered Paul.

Froslass left, passing through the logs as a ghost, and Paul finally stoked the small fire with the lighter he carried. The fire had previously been blown out from his exit a while ago, but there was enough dried wood left that he could burn. Turning to the wet branches he'd collected with Torterra, he started to strip them of wet leaves and break them down to the best of his ability – with the help of the pocket knife he carried for camping. Setting the prepared wood to dry out near the fire, ready to be used as kindle later, he sipped from a bottle of water. The drying kindle wouldn't take too long to dry; they'd had a long dry spell that had dried out many of the smaller trees he was now utilizing – trees that were dying from lack of water and too much heat. The rain was much needed – even if the storm wasn't welcome.

"Froslass, frossssss!" An urgent voice screeched from outside.

"You're a ghost type! Pathetic." He mumbled ignoring its cries, but Froslass didn't stop screeching urgently.

Huffing in anger, Paul walked to the logs and moved one hoping the fire didn't go out again. Paul was about to scold his Froslass for its stupidity in forgetting it could pass through solid matter… when he saw a weak and passed out Pikachu it its arms.

Fifteen minutes must have passed before the Pikachu woke up. Paul had dried the drenched thing with his towel, and laid it by the fire to warm up. It was still quite weak, but that didn't stop it from frantically panicking, shouting, and pointing to the entrance of the cave as it wobbled on its feet – waving its arms around hysterically in the process.

"Calm yourself!" Paul told the Pikachu sternly.

He looked at the electric type pokémon, a question burned on the tip of his tongue that he wasn't sure he wanted to ask – the chances that he was going to be right were very unlikely, but he asked anyway. "Is Ash Ketchum your trainer?" He'd spent the last fifteen minutes being reminded of the obsidian-haired trainer because of this bloody Pikachu.

"PIKA! Pika pi!" It agreed, nodding frantically and getting desperate.

Paul almost cursed, the last thing he needed right now was Ash Ketchum getting in his way. Oh, Reggie would be getting a tongue lashing when he got home – first the storm, now this! He almost forgot Pikachu was there, too lost in his own thoughts regarding this unlikely and cruel turn of events, but the rodent was frantically pointing to the entrance and trying to get out.

"Wait!" He told the Pikachu, giving it an analysing look as he tried to piece together the issue. An issue that he never asked for nor wanted. He certainly didn't want to go back outside the safety and warmth of the cave now that the fire was blazing again. "Is Ash in trouble?"

Pikachu was hysterically, and obviously, telling him yes with a side of 'move your arse into gear and help me, now!' As much as he would rather avoid the weather – and one Ash Ketchum, he didn't know the situation and he wasn't heartless. Stone hearted, yes! But not completely void of one.

Paul couldn't believe he was about to do this, but he wouldn't be able to rest with his damn conscious if he didn't. If Ash was hurt and stuck in this horrible weather, he couldn't leave him out there. "Pikachu, stay here! Froslass found you, she can lead me to him."

It was quite the battle getting the bloody electric-type pokémon to stay at the cave, but somehow, Paul managed to convince the stubborn thing. 'Just like his trainer, annoying and stubborn!' Paul thought.

Uncomfortably, and with difficulty, he put on his wet jeans to save his dry ones. He decided to wear his t-shirt and jacket this time too; he'd get soaked, that was a given, but the weather was far too furious to be devoid of clothes for however long it would take to find Ash Ketchum.

He also took his pokémon belt with him this time, knowing he'd have five capable pokémon on hand that could assist; he didn't know what he would find out there. Not that he wanted Ash to be hurt, but a part of him hoped that Ash really was in serious trouble, that he wasn't running into a dangerous and despicable storm – and the unknown, for nothing or something pathetic. He really would kill them both if that was the case – that annoying Pikachu and his ridiculous trainer.

Paul followed Froslass for a while, forcing through the stinging winds and icy rain. He was beginning to think that he might as well have just jumped into ice cold water with how cold and wet he now was. He continued on however, moving as fast as he could behind his ice-ghost type pokémon – who was easily floating around, and he started to wonder how far he had to travel away from the cave and its welcoming warmth. He usually had more endurance to the cold then this, but the winds were brutal against his soaked figure.

Eventually, Froslass stopped and pointed to the ground where a good chunk of the huge Neem tree had snapped from its main body and landed on the earth below. A huge main branch had clearly broken off in the wind and fallen, taking with it about a third of its leaves.

'Was that what all this was about, a fucking tree! Was Pikachu an environmentalist?' He snapped angrily to himself, getting quite frustrated and short tempered; the cold induced stinging in his extremities, the exhaustion of the journey, and the prospect of seeing Ash again was not helping in the slightest. He decided to check it out anyway, he might as well now that he was here – at least he couldn't possibly get any wetter, he was soaked through!

He soon saw something that didn't look like it belonged. Looking closer, his heart almost stopped. He gasped and froze for a moment before leaping into action – his frustration and anger forgotten. A young man – that he assumed was Ash, was laying face down in a pool of water that was gathering around his face due to the heavy downpour of rain on rock hard ground. The man was unconscious, trapped by the heavy main-branch over his right leg and the smaller branches that covered his body – it was impossible for Paul to pull him out alone.

Paul dropped to the ground on his knees, lifted Ash's face up and out of the water, and confirmed that it was indeed Ash Ketchum. He looked different, but it could have been the fact he was frozen, soaked through, and covered in mud. He quickly called out his pokémon. "Torterra, Electivire, brace yourself!"

It was Electivire's turn to be shocked by the weather, but Paul then called out another pokémon. "Aggron, be prepared!" He warned. Aggron came out and felt the effects of the rain instantly – being part rock type, but he was strong enough to endure and Paul gave him no time to think.

"Get this branch off, NOW!" Demanded Paul, urgently.

His three large pokémon, worked together to lift and throw the heavy branch away easily. Paul then recalled all four of his pokémon back inside their pokéballs – he didn't need Froslass to guide him back to the cave.

He quickly proceeded to lay Ash flat on his back, performing chest compressions as soon as he realised that Ash had stopped breathing. Despite his own pale complexion, Paul acted calm and collected, but inside he was a panicking mess – praying that the obsidian-haired trainer would cough, yell, cry, anything!

Pounding on Ash's chest alone wasn't working. Amidst his panic, he groaned, secretly begging him to wake up and realising he needed to preform full CPR. He'd already wiped Ash's face with his top, and so, leaning forward he took a deep breath and went for it. He pinched Ash's noes and blew two breaths into the young man's mouth.

It was almost instant, and it scared the life out of him when Ash suddenly coughed up water straight into his face, but he was relieved that the obsidian-haired trainer was breathing once again. Paul didn't care about being spat at, he was already drenched from the rain and knew Ash wasn't out of the woods yet. The obsidian-haired man was still unconscious, freezing, soaked, and his leg looked seriously injured with an open brake – it had obviously been bleeding, but he didn't know how much because of all the rain.

Putting Ash's drenched bag over his back, Paul carefully picked up the lifeless body of his old rival. With immense difficulty, he started making his way back to the cave. Ash's was heavier than he looked, but it was the weather that made it impossible.

Paul had only made it about one third of the way back when he physically couldn't keep going. Shivering immensely, he called out Electivire who agreed to carry Ash the rest of the way. He realised that he should have had his electric-type carry Ash from the start, but … he wanted to protect the obsidian-haired man himself, and he hadn't really been thinking. He wasn't trying to be a hero; he'd felt protective of Ash all of a sudden and it was an emotion he berated himself for – it was irrational and pathetic, and he'd wasted time.

It seemed like a lifetime had passed before they reached the cave. Sighing in relief and thanking Arceus that they'd made it back in one piece, Paul returned his exhausted Electivire back to his pokéball after thanking him.

Paul lay Ash carefully down by the unlit fire, before rushing to seal the cave entrance. He then rushed back to start the fire again, hoping there was still enough wood left from last time to at least kept it burning until the new wood was dry. As soon as the fire was going again, he started to strip Ash down and remove his wet clothes.

Pikachu was refusing to leave Ash's side, staring at Paul, watching his every move and worrying. He'd moved to Ash's face, looking depressed with tears threatening to fall from its pathetically sad little eyes.

Paul, first striped down Ash's torso and noticed his left shoulder was already starting to show signs of bruising. It was going to form into a very nasty bruise at that, and Ash also had a nasty graze down his arm as well that would need cleaning. His gaze moved to examine the rest of Ash's torso, and Paul noticed how fit his old rival actually was.

The young man had changed since he'd last seen him – after the Sinnoh league; Ash was older now, that was obvious, but taller and more physically mature too. His current condition paled his normal complexion, but his face was a soft oval shape with clear skin. New growing stubble ran along his more defined jawline, showing his aging since Paul had seen him last. Visible abs stared up at Paul, and although he wasn't ripped, he was well portioned and toned. The skin was tight against his lean shape, and small scars were visible in various places that made Paul wonder about their origin. Everything about Ash's mature body made Paul's behave in a way that was against his rules and morals – almost salacious in nature.

Swallowing hard, Paul shook his head to snap himself out of his trance – he had to keep his mind focused on more urgent matters. He got to work removing Ash's shoes, socks and drenched jeans. Ash was so cold that Paul was worried he could develop hypothermia, the fact he was shaking and unconscious was a worrying combination, and Ash's skin was so pale that his blue lips glared up at him.

Once Ash was completely striped down to nothing but his underpants, Paul searched Ash's bag for something to lay him on. The blue sleeping bag – bound and clipped to the outside of Ash's rucksack, was soaked through and muddy, and Ash had nothing else that would be of use. In fact, most of Ash's belongings were drenched. Paul glanced over to his own black sleeping bag, that laid out near the opposite side of the fire, and he made his decision then –– Ash would have to use his. Scooping up Ash's limp form, he carefully lowered the man down onto the black sleeping bag.

Pikachu, still exhausted from his own ordeal, had curled up next to Ash and fallen asleep quickly. Paul was grateful for that because he wasn't used to being watched. He liked his privacy and solitude, it was less hassle that way, no one else's expectations or social standards to cause issues when he didn't conform to them.

Paul was currently examining Ash's leg. The cut had stopped bleeding thankfully; most likely the cold had stemmed the blood flow before Paul had even found him – or so he hoped, the alternative was that he could have lost a lot of blood – too much blood. The cut itself wasn't too open, but it definitely looked like a few stitches would still be ideal. The worrying part was the fact that it was immensely swollen, bruised, and very red and angry in places which indicated a serious break in the bone.

Paul wasn't a doctor, and he certainly couldn't stitch the wound, so he decided to improvise with what knowledge and materials he did have. He took out a pair of old jogging pants from his bag, and carefully cut a long strip out of them using his pocket knife. The joggers were a little short on him now anyway, but Ash better be grateful he was ruining good clothes for him.

He used a little of his bottled water to wet another section of the joggers he'd hastily cut off, using it to wipe clean the wound as best as he could. Finally, he took the long clean strip he had first cut, knowing that for now, it was the best he could do under the circumstances, and wrapped it firmly around the wound. It was like a dark-grey coloured bandage, and he triple checked it wasn't too tight.

Paul then decided to take of his own wet clothes now that he'd done all that he could for Ash – for now. He was freezing, soaking wet still, and shivering despite the fire. Once he'd finally dried himself down, and had dry clothes on, he sorted out the wet ones. He wringed out – as best as he could, all the wet clothes including Ash's, and laid out as many as he could over the ground to dry. They would probably get dirty, but he hoped the heat from the burning fire – warming the air in the cave, would help them dry at least. Paul then returned to checking on Ash.

Ash was still unconscious, but the rise and fall of his chest was a comforting repetitive motion. Ash seemed a little warmer, but it was hard to tell. Using his towel, he dried Ash's thick obsidian hair. He ran his fingers through the fringe – flicking it to the right out of his eyes, and noted how his long, straight, messy black-hair was longer at the back. It hadn't changed much over the last four-five years he realised, but it was an inch or so longer, now down to his shoulders at the back and just past his ears nearer the front. It suited him, Paul thought, now checking – meticulously, to make sure the young man was completely dry.

Pikachu stirred in its sleep, but he didn't wake up. Paul looked back at Ash's slightly tanned skin that was slowly gaining some colour, down to his still damp underpants – the only thing he hadn't dared to touch: the thought of what he'd feel if he tried to dry them off, or what he'd see if he removed them, had Paul feeling very uncomfortable, but he still couldn't stop his curious hand from trailing Ash's chest, feeling the smooth skin and muscles there. His hand trailed erroneously down to the top of those damp boxers, feeling a tingling sensation shudder down his spine and enter his nether region. He paid no mind to his feelings as flashes of his past with Ash blazed though his thoughts instead.

The first full six on six battle with Ash at Lake Acuity: The smog hit Buizel, then I switched pokémon for Ursaring. I remember that counter shield Buizel used, I went on to using it in the Sinnoh league with my Gastrodon.

The Sinnoh league – now that was great battle! That's when he surprised me the most.
Ash's voice- "Paul! There's nobody like you, that's why I'm gonna win this!"
He did win it! I was disappointed for him when Tobias won in his next battle in the semi-finals. I had respect for Ash by then – after being a jerk for months.

Paul's voice to Ash: "Pathetic." – "Stay out of my way!" – "It's all about you isn't it." – "It's really none of your business see!" – "Another perfect example of how strong you aren't." – "I can't help but feel sorry for any pokémon who get stuck with a lousy trainer like you." – "A pathetic trainer and his equally pathetic pokémon."

Cynthia used to quote from the Sinnoh time space legend about me and Ash: "When every life meets another, something will be born." Something was born alright!

Reggie's voice: "...There's not another trainer who's influenced you the way he does."
Reggie still has no fucking clue how true that statement was … is. He also said we were, "Two sides of the same coin."
We were so different that it was hard to imagine that – still is.

I remember when we last parted ways after the Sinnoh league, Ash chased me down – typical Ash.

Ash's Voice: "…Good luck Paul." He smiled at me.

Paul's voice: "Yeah, thanks. You too! So, I'll see ya." I replied, not really wanting it to be the last time I saw him.

Ash's voice: "One more thing Paul! Let's battle again really soon."

Then I waved with my hand as I walked away smiling, our rivalry over, and thoughts of one day battling Ash again.

We never did battle again though.

Paul snapped out of his memory cloud, blinking as he turned to face Ash. He decided to zip Ash into the sleeping bag; Ash would warm up faster that way, and he wouldn't have to look at his ridiculously attractive form. He turned towards the cave entrance and sighed, deciding he should try to save Ash's stuff and unpack the rest of his bag – so his salvageable contents could dry out at least.

It felt strange going through Ash's bag, he felt like he was invading on his privacy instead of doing the right thing. He perhaps, was examining Ash's things a little too closely as he went through them, but he couldn't help his curiosity. Ash had eight badges that he hadn't seen before; Paul assumed he had recently attended a pokémon league somewhere but didn't recognise where.

So, he still travels and competes in leagues, ha. I wouldn't expect anything less.

Paul set the badges aside to dry off later before returning to Ash's bag. Ash had put his pokéball belt into the bag at some point before Paul had found him – near dead in the forest, and he noted that Ash's pokémon would be okay in their balls for now. Paul removed everything from the bag so it could dry out, but the things that Paul noticed the most were the fading wet photos – of his friends and family he assumed, a half a broken pokéball that confused him, and two Soothe bells with a soggy tag attached to each of them. He could just make out the number fifteen on one of them, and the other bell just had 'aul' left. Which he assumed – with the drop of his jaw, was the remainder of his own name – Paul.

It must have been about four and half years since the Hearthome city tag battle competition, and Ash still carried the Soothe bells? Looking across to the sleeping Ash, his mind went back to that day.

Paul's voice: "Of course YOU had to be number fifteen."

I only went there that day so my pokémon could battle fire types. So, I could test their strengths and push them to their limits – past their limits even. Yet, I ended up losing my own fire type pokémon that day instead … Chimchar.

Ash's voice: "You see, the way you give it all ya got is awesome. I'd love working with a tough pokémon like you!" Ash was holding his hand out to Chimchar, trying to get him to go along with him.

Paul's voice: "You deserve each other. You're both pathetic!"

Ash: "Just ignore him. Chimchar and I are gonna show Paul just how wrong he can be."

We won that tag battle, but I threw my own soothe bell at him in anger because he got in my way. He hindered my opportunity to push my pokémon to their limits with his own morals. That wasn't the only reason I threw them at him though: I was angry that Ash was turning out to be right all along, and I was jealous as well.

Ash's voice: "What was that for?"

Paul's voice: "I have no need for that!"

Secretly, I think I was starting to realise he was right about a lot of things. Then, during the Sinnoh league, that same Chimchar had become an Infernape and it was strong! It had guts and determination. I worked so hard and spent all that time to get Chimchar to use that Blaze move, but somehow, Ash was the one to bring it out; Infernape had controlled that move during the Sinnoh league, where he took out my last pokémon - my Electivire, during mine and Ash's battle.

Paul sighed sadly, returning to Ash's bag and putting aside the food that was useless now: Soggy biscuits and sandwiches for example. To the side of Ash, he stood the two bottles of water he'd found - Ash would need them when he woke up. There was some instant noodles and chocolate bars still sealed and salvageable. He laid out all of Ash's belongings to dry, and used a towel to do the best he could in drying off some of his items – there was nothing else to do until the storm passed, but the memories that were flooding Paul's brain were still playing with his emotions.

He'd made a lot of bad choice back then, and he'd hid a lot of feelings away regarding the obsidian-hair trainer… feelings that were now awaking – clawing from the shadows.